Page 7 of Creep

After all, that was how it was for me.

I licked my lips in anticipation, waiting to see what she would do now that she thought she was home alone. She glided her hand down her body, her hands coming up to cup her small breasts. She let out a breathy moan as she tweaked her nipples, her legs rubbing up against each other. I imagined she was trying to relieve the ache building there.

Once she knew she was mine, she would know not to touch herself without my permission. For now, I let her have her fun.

My cock twitched in the confines of my jeans when one of her hands came down to cup her pussy through that skimpy triangular fabric she tried to pass off as panties. Damn lucky there wasn’t another fucker here with her. I would gouge out the fucker's eyeballs for daring to see what was mine… right before I killed him. And I would make it hurt.

My thoughts briefly strayed to the bar owner. He hadn’t seen what belonged to me, but I fucking knew he’d touched her.

Because she didn’t know about my ownership over her yet, I decided to forgive her. I won’t punish her…too much. And I won’t kill the owner. Doesn’t mean I won’t break the fucker’s hands when the time comes.

Look at me, being merciful and shit.

Before her, that would have never happened.

She was already making me a better person, and she didn’t even know it.

Her soft moans broke through the murderous haze that I found myself under, thinking about the bar owner, and I came back to reality just in time to see her hand had slid beneath her panties. She was probably playing with her fat clit.

My fists clenched. Thinking about that bastard nearly had me missing my favorite show. Fuck.

I focused my attention on my girl, anticipating her climax. It would almost be as good as if I had been the one to get her there, but for now, I’d settle for this.

She moved her hand roughly against herself, those little sounds growing louder and louder until I felt like I was nearly bursting at the seams until…

She let out a small sigh.

I frowned when she pulled her hand away.

“Impossible,” she muttered to herself, climbing onto her bed and punching the pillow in frustration. How… cute.

Like a little kitten throwing its first tantrum. Did she need help?

I walked closer to her. Because of where I was, it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone. She turned her head, and our eyes met through the moonlight. I waited for her screams—for her to freak out. I was ready for that.

What I wasn’t ready for was her soft smile directed at me.

“You,” she whispered.

“Me,” I answered in the same tone of voice.

“You’re from the bar,” she said, bringing me back to the moment our eyes had met earlier. “I must be more lonely than I thought to be fantasizing about you in my drunken state.”

“Are you lonely, kitten?”

She wouldn’t feel that way if she knew just how often I was with her. How much time I had spent in her presence, watching over her.

She blew raspberries with her lips, making me even more obsessed with her than I was. She needed to be careful. If she got any cuter, I would lock her up in my apartment and never let her leave. How easily I could make that happen.

Tempting.

I shook away the thought.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she answered.

“Do you need help?” I asked with an easy smile.

She giggled, the sound like the world’s greatest symphony playing just for me. “Are you going to help me?”

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